


4:15 On the Gomokunarabe Line

by Scrawlers



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, wishshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A train derailment on the day Yuugi is set to return home from a business trip flips Jounouchi's world on its axis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4:15 On the Gomokunarabe Line

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, this is post-canon, and specifically takes place when Yuugi and Jounouchi are both twenty-six (and in an established relationship, hence Yuugi's use of Jounouchi's given name).

_good morning droolface :)_

_ha ha, good morning to you, too. that makes 14/14, you win._

_got 2 win 1 sumtime ;) ur trains still comin in @415 right?  
_

_yep. can you still make it? it’s okay if not, i’ll always see you at home later._

_have u met me_  
_do u kno who i am_  
 _have u already 4gotn my name n face_   

_ok, i’m just saying plans change sometimes, that’s all._

_have u ever heard of me b4 in ur lyf_  
_do u even have concpt of me as a prsn_   

_katsuya._

_ofc im gna b there who do u think i am  
_

_i don’t know, it’s been two whole weeks.  
your name and face are kinda fuzzy to me now._

_haha thats cute  
_

_:)_

_n e way its 415 @ domino station right? what line again?  
_

_gomokunarabe._

_got it i will c u then :)  
_

_can’t wait! :)_

 

Five minutes before he was set to go on air, Jounouchi leaned back in his favorite spinny chair in his recording studio, his feet thrown up by the audio console as he beamed at the text messages on his phone.

By all accounts, his recording studio was not big enough for most to get comfortable in. The space was by and large dominated by the audio console, which was both situated dead center in the room, but was also pressed up against the left wall. There was just enough space on either side of the audio console for chairs, and on the far right side of the console there was only enough room for people to walk by if they walked single file. The door to the recording studio was along that right wall, and opened up into the break room; on the far wall across from Jounouchi, a long rectangular window revealed a different hallway, through which his coworkers would often make gestures or faces at him as he recorded, either for a prank or because they wanted to catch his attention because he had forgotten to mention something important.

But although his studio was small, it was still _his_ studio, and Jounouchi found it more cozy than cramped. The large window on the opposite wall helped stave off any real feelings of claustrophobia, and although he had to jam his chair into the corner just to have enough room to put his legs up by the audio console (and even then, he had to have his legs stretched across the desk part just so that he didn’t have to bend his legs), he still couldn’t bring himself to feel bothered by it. Then again, as his cheeks began to ache from the persistence of his smile as he scrolled through to Yuugi’s last reply, he reasoned that it was unlikely _anything_ could bother him right then.

Anything aside from two sharp knocks delivered to the wooden door frame of his studio, at least, which were accompanied by his station manager barking, “Oi! Jounouchi!” just in case his knocking hadn’t done its job. Jounouchi looked up from his phone with a barely restrained frown, and when he saw the way his manager’s eyes bugged at the sight of his feet up by the audio console, he quickly swung his legs down.

“What?” Jounouchi asked, and he sat up a little straighter, doing his best to put on an innocent face.

His manager’s expression told Jounouchi plainly that he didn’t buy it. “Keep your head up, would you?” he said, and he gave his watch two conspicuous taps. Jounouchi fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re on in three.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it,” Jounouchi said, and he waved a dismissive hand. His manager stared back, unimpressed. “Three whole minutes, right? I’ve got time.”

“Not if you keep playing with your phone,” his manager said. This time Jounouchi did roll his eyes, yet he set his phone by the audio console regardless. His manager looked slightly mollified. “Remember to bring up that VR event that Kaiba Corp’s hosting this weekend at some point, all right?”

Jounouchi made a face. If having his sixty-seventh re-read of his and Yuugi’s early morning text messages interrupted wasn’t unpleasant enough, having Kaiba Corp brought up barely an hour after he got into work definitely soured the entire cake. “You really want to ruin my day like that? On today of all days?”

His manager gave him a severe look, and jabbed a finger in his direction. “And _don’t_ trash talk it in the same breath. I mean it this time.”

“Like you did the last thirty-three, right?” Jounouchi muttered. He said it just loudly enough for his manager to overhear, or so it seemed from the way his manager’s expression twisted into a disapproving grimace; but his show was due to start in one minute, and as he reached for his headphones, his manager made no move to scold him. Instead, he shook his head and ducked out of the studio, and as Jounouchi switched his mic on, his eyes landed on his cell phone again. After one glance at the time, he deactivated the lock screen, and the second he did, the last few messages he and Yuugi had exchanged greeted him once again, casting a bright little glow against the audio console. Jounouchi grinned.

Promoting Kaiba Corp’s _anything_ was always his least favorite thing to do, but come 4:15, even that wouldn’t be enough to kill his mood.

“Aaaand we’re live! You’re listening to DCER in the afternoon, as you obviously know since you’re the one who turned to this channel—and that’s, what, the seven hundredth different way I’ve kicked this show off?” Jounouchi shrugged, and through the glass window on the opposite side of the recording booth he saw one of his coworkers shake her head at him. He grinned. “Oh well, keeps things interesting.

“Anyway, today. Today’s show is gonna be pretty great. Well, actually, today in general is pretty great, ‘cause do you know what day it is today? It’s April 23rd. Weather report says it’s supposed to storm at some point, and obviously that’s a bunch of garbage considering the sun is out right now—or at least, it was out about an hour ago when I was last outside. I don’t actually have windows to the outside of the building in this studio, so who knows what the weather’s like right now. For all I know, it could be a typhoon out there, and I trust at least _one_ of you guys to call in and tell me if that’s the case.” Though none of his listeners could see him, Jounouchi put on the most serious face he could, and jabbed a finger toward the audio console, not unlike how his station manager had pointed one at _him_ earlier. “This one’s on you guys. If, at some point in the past hour, some kinda freaky demigod or whatever activated Giant Trunade on our entire city, one of you has gotta call in to let me know. I’m counting on you.

“But in the event that _hasn’t_ happened and the weather is just as beautiful as it was an hour ago, today’s April 23rd and the weather is great. Some of you are into your, what . . . third week of school by now? So that sucks for you, and you’re probably not listening to this anyway. But the _rest_ of you should probably be having a pretty damn great day, and you know why? Because _I’m_ having a great day. And do you know why _that_ is? Well . . .” Jounouchi beamed, and fought the urge to spin his chair around. “Let’s just say that someone _really_ freakin’ great is _finally_ coming back home after two weeks, and I can’t wait any freakin’ longer than I already have.” He paused a second, then amended, “Aside from the next four hours and fifteen minutes that I’m gonna have to wait, anyway.”

He glanced up to see that his station manager was standing on the other side of the window, once again giving him a stern stare as he tapped his watch. After being a host for several years, Jounouchi was more than familiar with his manager’s signal for when it was time for him to get back on track, just as his manager was more than familiar with Jounouchi’s tendency to get _off_ track. It wasn’t that big of a deal, really, when most (if not all) of Jounouchi’s listeners seemed to enjoy his digressions—but then, Jounouchi figured that waxing on about how excited he was for Yuugi to come home from his developer's conference probably wasn’t really relevant to the show, anyway. For once, he could heed his manager’s suggestion and get back on topic.

“But that’s enough about that for now. Let’s talk news! So, to start us off on a kinda sucky note to get it out of the way, this weekend Kaiba Corp is hosting a VR event down at Domino Docks. The event’s two days, both Saturday and Sunday, and starts at sometime in the afternoon, goes until late at night, blah blah blah, you get the gist. I mean, you guys know the drill by now, right?” he said, ignoring the way his station manager glared at him from the other side of the window. “This isn’t even part of—oh, wait.”

On the far right side of the audio console sat a small black tray, into which station management left important memos and other notices for him. On the very top of the until then ignored small stack of papers sat a memo with both the Kaiba Corp and Dream Creepers logos emblazoned on top. Jounouchi reached over and swiped the memo out of the tray, and after he skimmed it, amended:

“Okay, yeah, this is actually part of their partnership with Dream Creepers, my bad. I just figured it wasn’t because, you know, it’s _April_ , but apparently Bakura’s launching the new campaign this month and just never bothered to actually tell me.” He huffed an annoyed sigh. “I get that the guy is busy and all, but would it kill him to shoot me a text? I’m one of his _best friends_. The least he could do is tell me when the new campaign for his game launches so I can actually, you know, buy and play the thing. I don’t think that’s asking a whole lot.

“But anyway, as you guys have probably figured out, this is part of the Kaiba Corp-Dream Creepers partnership, so it’s one of those _Spirits & Sanctuaries _VR deals. Go down there and you can play through a virtual reality S&S campaign, where you’re actually your character, and the monsters are holograms, yadda yadda, it’s a good time.” Jounouchi’s phone vibrated, the preview for a text from Bakura flashing across the screen, and he scoffed. “Oh, _now_ he texts me. See guys, that’s the secret to getting people to text you: Just complain about them on live radio.

“That said, this whole thing kicks off at four p.m. on both days, and you should all go down there to support Bakura, ‘cause even if he can’t text me _before_ I complain about him on live radio for not telling me when his awesome new TRPG campaign launches, he’s still an awesome guy who deserves all your support, and S&S is just as awesome even if it’s full of a bunch of creepy occult shit. So if nothing else, just go down there and forget the entire thing was also put together by Kaiba Corp. In fact, actively forget that it was put together by Kaiba Corp. And if you happen to see Kaiba, maybe do me a favor and push him into the harbor.”

On the other side of the studio’s window, Jounouchi’s manager tossed up his hands and stalked off as Jounouchi’s coworker ducked her head to hide her laughter. Jounouchi grinned, and laced his fingers behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.

“So, that’s that. In other, more enjoyable, news, the most recent Tin Pin Slam-Off was held down at the Station Arcade Centre this past Saturday, and that was honestly probably the most—well, okay, it wasn’t _the most_ crazy thing I’ve ever seen in my life, because trust me, I’ve seen some crazy shit, but in the context of Tin Pin it was pretty damn wild . . .”

And so his show—aside from Bakura texting him to ask him not to tell his listeners to push Kaiba into the harbor (to which Jounouchi replied back that he had already told them to and didn’t want to create confusion by contradicting himself)—carried on. After he went over the results of the Slam-Off he talked a bit about Tin Pin strategies, and threw in an impromptu, free plug for the Kame Game Shop while he was at it (as he typically did, and as his station manager usually groused about given that the Kame Game Shop didn’t pay them for advertising). His talk segments were interspersed with song and commercial breaks, and when he took his final break at 3:45 and ducked out of the booth to grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the break room, he found a group of his coworkers—Kuriyama the social media manager, Akibara the sound guy, and Suzuki the site manager—huddled together in a small cluster by the potted plant in the corner. Kuriyama had her phone out, her eyes wide behind her glasses as she stared at the screen, and as Jounouchi made his way to the mini fridge adjacent to them, Akibara and Suzuki looked up at him, wearing similar grim expressions. Jounouchi frowned in response, an unpleasant swoop of foreboding in his stomach, as he yanked the door to the mini fridge (which was always sticking, it felt like) open. Across the room, Suzuki hissed between her teeth as Akibara muttered an oath, and as Jounouchi swiped a bottle of water from the back of the fridge, he felt he finally had to say something as he stood up.

“What’s going on?” he asked, and once again all three of them looked over at him. He kicked the door to the mini fridge shut, and then kicked it _again_ to make sure it stayed that way as he unscrewed the cap on his water bottle. “You guys look like you just heard the station’s getting shut down or something.”

“There was an accident down by Domino station,” Kuriyama said. Her hot pink fingernails scratched against her cell phone’s equally as pink phone case. Her nail polish was chipping off. “A train accident. It derailed.”

The curse of the mini fridge’s sticky door seemed to spread to whatever items were stored inside. The cap to Jounouchi’s water bottle had decided to put up a fight, but as soon the words “train accident” left Kuriyama’s mouth, Jounouchi gave up the struggle. His arm dropped down to his side, and he stared blankly at her. “What?”

“It was coming in too fast, probably. Wouldn’t surprise me if the conductor was speeding,” Akibara said. He had his arms folded across his chest, and shook his head with a disapproving frown. “Remember that accident that happened two years ago?”

“Yeah, but it’s too early to say for this one. It only just happened, details are still coming in,” Suzuki said. She leaned over to look at Kuriyama’s phone again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she did so. “They don’t even have a number for how many were injured yet, or if there are any dead—”

“What line was it?” Jounouchi demanded. He squeezed the bottle of water tightly enough so that the plastic crumpled beneath his fingers. “What train?”

“Looks like one on the Gomokunarabe line,” Suzuki said. “And it derailed right before the station t—where are you going?”

Jounouchi didn’t answer her, save to wave a hand over his shoulder, as he bolted back to his studio. He figured that she would get the message, anyway—that his break was just about over, that he had to get back on air, that he had a show to run and couldn’t spend all day talking about derailed trains or accidents or anything else with them, not when he was supposed to be on-air.

But instead of his headphones, the first thing that Jounouchi grabbed when he made it back to his audio console was his cell phone. He swiped past the lock screen and backed out of the text messages that he had been exchanging with Bakura, and went back to the thread he had with Yuugi. Yuugi hadn’t texted him anything else since that morning, and that was fine; Jounouchi had never sent back a reply to Yuugi’s “can’t wait” message, hadn’t really been able to think of anything to say in response to that, and knew that Yuugi understood whatever Jounouchi _would_ have said without him needing to say it, anyway. But he looked back at the thread now, looked at the message where Yuugi had confirmed what line his train was on, looked at it even though he didn’t need to, because he knew. He knew, because he had read those messages more than enough times that afternoon, as if reading them over and over again would make the minutes tick by faster and the clock stop slogging along.

_Gomokunarabe,_ Yuugi had said. His train was coming in on the Gomokunarabe line. Jounouchi’s hands shook as he typed out a quick message:

_hey u ok???  
_

He stood there, his fingers locked so tightly around his phone that they hurt where the plastic jammed into them, but no reply came. It was fine. Yuugi wasn’t the fastest texter, due to his insistence on using punctuation and spelling out entire words. And even if he was, he was probably busy. Distracted. He liked to play games on long train rides, either on his DS, or his PSP, or even analog puzzle games that he liked to bring along with him. And who could blame him, really? Train rides were boring. Playing games was the only real way to pass the time on them. He could have also fallen asleep; no doubt that was the case, and he was drooling on the leather of the train seat, and would steadfastly deny it when Jounouchi saw him despite the spot of drool that would still be on his lower lip—

Two sharp knocks resounded from the large window on the other side of the studio, and Jounouchi’s head snapped up to meet his station manager’s eyes. Once again his manager’s eyes were bugging, and he tapped his watch twice before pointing at the audio console. Jounouchi swallowed. His manager was right. He had a job to do, and Yuugi had not yet texted back, but that was okay because he was fine. Jounouchi was sure of it.

Jounouchi set his phone back down by the audio console, grabbed his headphones, and switched his mic back on as he took a deep breath. Everything was fine. It was all okay, and he had a show to do, and it was fine.

“Hey, welcome back,” he croaked, and glanced down at his phone, which sat silent and still by the audio console. He had forgotten to drink his water; his throat was still dry. “That was a, uh—a quick break. You know. Standard. Got some music in there, some good songs . . .” He disengaged the lock screen on his phone, just in case it had glitched and didn’t feel like telling him that Yuugi had texted him back, but when the lock screen faded out and revealed their text message thread, his message was the last one on the screen. “And some commercials, I’m sure, for—for cool stuff, you know. Games, or sound systems, or whatever else. Jewelry, I think. Probably still got those annoying diamond ads running. Does anyone even buy diamonds anymore? Why would you? I guess to propose, or whatever, if you wanted to get married, but—” He curled his fingers into fists. “—but that’s kind of—I mean, if you have someone you love, that’s great, but you don’t really need marriage to spend the rest of your life with ‘em, if you want to. Maybe to visit them in the hospital if you need to, but . . .” He tried to swallow again, and cleared his throat. “Anyway. Diamond commercials. Kind of a waste and super annoying when the only thing they consist of is some geezer trying to sell his gemstones and a bunch of obviously paid actors talking about how great the customer service was. Not really worth it.”

He swiped through his phone’s lock screen again, and took what he intended to be a steadying breath through his nose as he saw that there was still no reply from Yuugi. It had only been a couple of minutes, and that wasn’t a big deal—it really wasn’t, especially if Yuugi was just sleeping, perfectly safe, in a train that hadn’t derailed into a fiery crash—but . . .

“So, uh—actually, I’m gonna cut the show a bit short today,” he said, and forced a laugh as he ran a hand through his bangs. “I don’t know if you guys heard, but there was actually a pretty bad accident down at the train station a little bit ago. Something about a train on the—the Gomokunarabe line derailing. Went completely off the tracks, and we have no idea who survived that crash, or who’s hurt, or who needs help, but remember how I said at the beginning of the show that someone really great was coming home today after being gone for two weeks and I was really excited about that? Well, let’s just say that was his train. Probably—it might have been his train. I mean, it—it wasn’t his train, because his train’s not supposed to be in until four fifteen, much less derailing near the station at three forty-five, but on the off-chance it _was_ his train, I’ve gotta get down there to see, you know? To help. To—to do _something_ that doesn’t include sitting around here, waiting for a text message that’s not gonna come.” He checked his phone again, to be sure, and fought the urge to hurl it across the recording studio when he saw that his message was still the last one in the thread. “And if any of you know anyone who was supposed to be on that train, or anyone who could have been caught in any kinda crossfire from that train derailing, then I recommend you do the same. Go down and find ‘em, or call ‘em, or do whatever you have to, because if you’re anything like me, you can’t just sit around doing _nothing_ when someone you love is in danger like that. So go find ‘em. That’s where I’m going.” He stood up, and reached over his head to yank his headphones off, pausing only when he remembered that he still had to give a proper sign-off to the show at least. “This has been DCER in the afternoon. Check in with us again tomorrow, and always remember to play it loud.”

\- - -

Domino City was, above all else, a city fixated on entertainment. Aside from being home to one of the largest entertainment corporations in the world, the newest gaming trends and fads to sweep Japan always seemed to either start in Domino, or at least be popularized on Domino’s streets. Idols made it a point to perform at Domino’s amphitheater, and the last time Honda checked, Domino City held the dubious honor of having the highest rate of television and movie piracy of any city in Japan. But perhaps as a result of Domino’s fixation on entertainment, the residents of the city were always looking for the next new thing. Sometimes that was a new toy, or a new game, or a new musical artist that no one had heard of before that point. And other times, such as that day, the newest form of “entertainment” came from the train crash that had flattened two of the train cars against the side of a nearby business complex, and had smashed and crumpled the rest.

Honda and the rest of his precinct were doing the best they could to keep people away from the crash site, including blocking off every street within two blocks of the crash with officers stationed there to keep bystanders from getting through. But between that and trying to help the fire department and EMTs comb through the wreckage to find survivors, their precinct was stretched extremely thin. Every last officer had been called in, whether they were on desk duty down at the station or whether they had the day off. And while Honda felt like it showed with the way the crash site was crawling with his fellow officers in addition to the firemen and EMTs, he still couldn’t help but notice how few officers were there in comparison to everyone else—how meager their ranks were, due to the way they had to barricade off the streets surrounding the site because of how everyone else in the city wanted to treat a train crash like the newest episode of their favorite drama—

“Hey! Stop him—”

“Sir, you can’t—!”

“The hell I can’t, get out of my way—”

“Stand down or we’ll be forced to—!”

“Go ahead and try it, then!”

Honda turned the second he heard Jounouchi’s voice—the second before he even registered that it was _Jounouchi’s_ voice that he was hearing—and as he saw Jounouchi get in a fellow officer’s face, and said officer reach for his truncheon as he took a step back, Honda hastily made his way over.

“Hey!” he shouted, once he was within earshot. Jounouchi and both of the officers blocking his access to the train looked over at him, and only a fraction of the tension left Jounouchi’s shoulders. “Kumoda, Hideyoshi—I can take him from here.”

“You sure?” Kumoda asked. His hand was still on his truncheon, and Jounouchi shot him a dark look that Honda knew full well was a dare for him to try using it. Honda fought the urge to grab the back of Jounouchi’s shirt and drag him back. “You’re supposed to be monitoring the other side, aren’t you?”

“I can take him with me,” Honda said, and when both Kumoda and Hideyoshi raised their eyebrows he added, “Trust me, I’m familiar with him. It’ll be easier to keep him back and out of the way if you just let me deal with him. I’ll explain everything to the chief later if he asks questions.”

“Well . . . all right. He’s all yours, then,” Kumoda said.

Hideyoshi wagged a finger at Jounouchi. “Keep out of trouble, and don’t get in Officer Honda’s way, you hear?”

“Only so long as he doesn’t get in mine,” Jounouchi snapped. Hideyoshi’s lips puckered in a scowl of disapproval, and this time Honda did grab Jounouchi by his arm and tug him back.

“Thanks, gentlemen. I’ll take him from here,” he said. Kumoda and Hideyoshi turned to return to their posts, and as they did Jounouchi yanked his arm out of Honda’s grasp. Honda glared at him. “What the hell are you doing here? And how did you get past the barricades?”

Jounouchi scoffed. “Like a barricade can keep me from getting where I need to be. I know this city better than any of the assholes on this force and you know it.”

“Only most of them are assholes,” Honda said, and though the noise from the rescue operation easily drowned his voice, he said it in an undertone regardless. Jounouchi didn’t smile. “But that doesn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

“Getting in that train. So if you’ll excuse me—” He started toward the train, his fingers balled into fists at his sides, and Honda quickly stepped in front of him to block his progress. Jounouchi glowered at him. “Honda—”

“What the hell do you mean, getting in that train? Have you completely lost your mind in the two days I haven’t seen you? Look at it!” Honda flailed a hand back at the train. Jounouchi glanced at it, and he swallowed hard as his eyes locked on the wreckage. “It’s a wreck, Jounouchi, and that means you need to stay away and let the professionals do our jobs.”

“Yeah, so you can take six hours to get everyone out, right?” Jounouchi demanded, and Honda glared at him. “No. Pass. Move out of my way.”

Honda crossed his arms over his chest, and stood his ground. “No. You have no business with that train, and you’re not getting near it.”

Jounouchi took a deep breath through his nose. “Honda, I swear to fucking god—”

“You swear what? Look, I’m just doing my job, and keeping you safe while I’m at it! You go near that train now, and you’re either going to get hurt or arrested—”

“Like I give a damn if I get hurt—”

“Well I do, so if you’ll stop being a jackass for five seconds—”

“Yuugi’s on that train!”

“What?”

Honda stared at Jounouchi, who stared openly back, and for the first time Honda noticed how Jounouchi was shaking, how bright his eyes were, how shallow each breath he took was.

“Yuugi is—I mean, he’s not, but—but he is—I think he’s on that train.” Jounouchi ran a trembling hand through his hair, and fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket with his other hand. He swiped past the lock screen, huffed a humorless laugh at whatever he saw, and then locked it again before he shoved it back in his pocket. “He was supposed to be in at four fifteen today on a train on the Gomokunarabe line. And that’s—that’s the four fifteen Gomokunarabe train, isn’t it?” Two beats of silence passed between them, in which the only sounds came from the police, firemen, and EMTs trying their damnedest to work through the wreckage and get to the victims. When Honda said nothing, Jounouchi pressed, “Honda?”

“Yeah,” Honda said, but he couldn’t get his voice above a croak, and so he was sure Jounouchi only understood from reading his lips. What little color had been left in Jounouchi’s cheeks left it, and he pressed his lips together as he looked back at the train.

“Right,” he said after a moment. “So I’ve gotta get in that train, ‘cause—‘cause he’s somewhere in there, in that. And I don’t know if—I mean, he’s fine. He’s gotta be fine. He’s always fine. But he’s probably bored, or freaked out or whatever, so I’ve gotta get in there to find him. I told him I’d be here, anyway, so if anything I’m really just keeping my promise.”

Slowly, like cake batter being poured into a pan, Honda started to get his bearing on the situation—began to recover from the news, unexpected and entirely unwelcome, that one of his best friends was quite possibly dead inside a derailed train. Jounouchi had always been a kinetic person, channeling his feelings through movement, and Honda could tell from the way Jounouchi was poised on the balls of his feet that he was about to make a break for it.

“You can stay,” he said, and Jounouchi glanced back at him, “but you can’t go in the train. Jounouchi, I mean it,” he added in a firmer voice, as Jounouchi glared at him. “I know how you’re feeling, and believe me, I want to go in there and get Yuugi, too. But if you go in there right now, all you’re going to do is get yourself hurt, and—”

“I already told you that I don’t give a fuck about me,” Jounouchi snapped harshly. “And like _hell_ you know how I’m feeling, you—”

“He’s my friend, too—”

“He’s not _just_ my—!” Jounouchi put his face in his hands, muffling whatever he had been about to say, and Honda’s ire faded. He gave Jounouchi’s shoulder a bracing squeeze.

“Look, just come down with me to the other end of the train, all right?” he said. Jounouchi scrubbed his hands down his face, and when he met Honda’s eyes, Honda continued, “Right now all of our equipment and manpower is dedicated to working through the wreckage at the front of the crash, but we’ve called in for backup and more equipment to pry the doors open at the other end of the train, too. We can go wait down there, and the second they get those doors open, you’ll know. You won’t be able to go in,” he added sternly, “but you’ll know. Okay?”

Jounouchi continued to glare at him for a moment, eyes dark and inscrutable, before he finally said, “Fine.”

“Good.” Honda gestured for Jounouchi to follow him, and started down toward his post by the least damaged part of the train. “Come on, then. There are a few other officers down there; they should be able to give us a status update on where the hell our backup is.”

Jounouchi said nothing, but shoved his hands in his pockets, looking back at the train every few seconds as they walked. Honda couldn’t blame him. If it wasn’t for the fact that all of his training told him it would do more harm than good, he would have allowed Jounouchi to follow through on his impulse to get into the train by any means necessary. But the last thing he needed was for Jounouchi to get himself hauled off in cuffs (or worse, depending on how much damage he did to the officers trying to arrest him first), or for Jounouchi to accidentally get himself hurt while trying to get into the train. It was bad enough that Yuugi was likely hurt, if not—if not worse; Honda didn’t need Jounouchi to get himself injured, too.

One of the few officers on the force that Honda actively liked, Miki, was waiting down by Honda’s post. He gave Honda a questioning look as they neared, his eyes darting to Jounouchi, but Honda shook his head and Miki took the unspoken request not to question it.

“Have we heard anything?” Honda asked.

Miki shook his head, expression grim. “I haven’t, at least. Nishimoto went to go see if he could get a status update directly from the chief. I doubt his chances.”

Honda snorted. “Yeah, so do I. No matter how much of a kiss ass he is, he’s not a competent enough cop for the chief to trust him.”

Miki laughed, and shrugged as if to concede the point. “You said it, not me,” he said. “Actually, it’s funny; the other day I saw Nishimoto in the chief’s office, and it looked like he was—what’s he doing?”

Honda frowned. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be telling me?”

Miki shook his head. “No, not Nishimoto. That guy that was with you, he—hey, stop!”

Honda whipped around in time to see that, in the time it took Miki to tell him that there wasn’t any news and that Nishimoto had apparently done something in the chief’s office, Jounouchi had seen fit to make another break for the train, this time succeeding. Before Miki had a chance to reach for his whistle, and before Honda had a chance to say a word, Jounouchi kicked the doors of the train car three times in rapid succession, with the third kick strong enough to open the doors just enough so that he could try squeezing through.

“Son-of-a—Jounouchi!” Honda shouted, but Jounouchi ignored him wholesale, prying the doors open the rest of the way so that he could climb through. “Jounouchi, get back here—!”

Other officers, no doubt alerted by the sound of Jounouchi kicking the train door open, started bolting toward them. Honda turned to Miki, barked, “Explain to them that I’ve got it under control!” and then made his way to the train car himself. Honda had a stockier build than Jounouchi did—always had—and his police uniform didn’t help matters much; all the same, all the training that he had spent in the academy paid off in terms of raw physical strength, and he was able to use the opening Jounouchi had created to shove open the doors a tiny bit more, creating just enough space for him to squeeze through.

The train car was packed with people. Most of the people were huddled on the floor of the train car, either in little clusters of family and friends, or else in little self-contained balls. Others had clambered back upon to the seats, particularly (it looked like) if they were injured. As he clambered into the car, everyone started speaking at once.

“Officer! Oh, thank goodness—”

“Does this mean we’re saved?”

“What happened? It sounded like a crash—”

“Felt like one—”

“Was that guy a superhero? Is that why he kicked in the—”

“Officer? Officer! Where are you going?!”

“The rescue team will be in shortly! In the meantime, please remain calm!” Honda said, and despite how loud he could naturally make his voice, he still had to strain to be heard over the din. The car Jounouchi had broken into was the last one in the train, meaning that there was only one direction in which he could have gone, and since he clearly hadn’t stopped once he realized Yuugi was not in the last car, that gave Honda an easy path to follow.

Jounouchi wasn’t in the seventh car, or the sixth car, either. But by the time Honda finally made it through to the fifth (assuring the frightened, bleeding passengers all the while that the rescue would be in as soon as possible, that he _promised_ them they would be all right), he finally found him. Jounouchi was crouched down on the side of the seats nearest to the front of the fifth car, right by the door, and as Honda neared, he caught a snatch of what Jounouchi was saying.

“. . . your phone?”

“Because . . .” Seated with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out along Jounouchi’s side, Yuugi held up his phone. The light of the train car glinted off a large crack down the screen, and Yuugi smiled thinly. “I had it on the seat next to me, and it broke when we crashed. I can’t use it.”

Jounouchi huffed a breathy laugh, and let his head fall to his chest. “God. Don’t . . . I thought—I mean, I didn’t think, I knew you were okay, but—” Jounouchi looked up, and grimaced at Yuugi’s leg. “Well, mostly okay.”

Yuugi laughed shakily. “Yeah, right? Mostly.”

So taken was he with relief that both of them were okay that Honda hadn’t noticed it at first, but now that they unintentionally drew attention to it, he saw it. Although one of them had wrapped what looked like one of Yuugi’s shirts from his luggage around his leg to stop the bleeding, blood had already soaked through and around the fabric from a wound spanning from the back of Yuugi’s knee down his calf.

“Well, come on,” Jounouchi said, and he thumped his fist against his own knee. “Let’s get you out of here, and to a hospital. There’s an outpatient clinic only a couple blocks away from here—I’ll carry you.”

“No, don’t,” Honda said. Both Jounouchi and Yuugi looked up at the sound of his voice, and Jounouchi scowled at him as he neared them. “That leg looks bad, and we already have EMTs on hand here. Once they can get in, they’ll treat him.”

“They’ll treat him a lot faster if I can get him out of here,” Jounouchi said. “It’ll be hours before they get through here—”

“—and if he stays still and we keep pressure on the wound we can prevent it from getting worse,” Honda snapped. Jounouchi glowered at him, but then he blinked and looked back at Yuugi, as if Yuugi had gotten his attention in some way Honda couldn’t detect.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Yuugi said, and when Jounouchi opened his mouth to argue he insisted, “Really, I’ll be okay. It’s not that bad. We can wait for the EMTs to get here, and that way Honda-kun won’t get into any more trouble than he’s probably going to be in already for letting you through, okay?”

“It’s not his fault I got through,” Jounouchi muttered. “None of them could have stopped me, so—”

“I know,” Yuugi said, and he sounded amused. “But let’s just wait here, okay? Let’s just wait here together, and I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

Jounouchi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded, and it was then that Honda noticed that they were holding hands—that it occurred to him that they had probably been holding hands since before he walked up, only he hadn’t noticed due to the train seat being in the way. Jounouchi held Yuugi’s right hand in his left, their fingers twined; and while Yuugi had probably squeezed Jounouchi’s hand to get his attention before, Jounouchi held onto Yuugi’s hand so tightly his knuckles were pale.

“Okay,” Jounouchi said finally, and without releasing Yuugi’s hand he crawled over to sit beside him, their shoulders touching. “Tell me about your trip, then. Was it fun?”

“Mmhm, for the most part,” Yuugi said, and for all the world it was like Honda wasn’t even there anymore with the way Jounouchi’s attention fixated on Yuugi, and Yuugi in turn had his concentration taken in by his story. “The meetings weren’t anything special, really—there was a lot of budget talk, especially when it came to how much money Violet Ltd was willing to contribute to the project—”

“Wasn’t the partnership their idea?”

“Yes, but their representatives seemed to be under the impression that we were going to foot most of the costs, in addition to letting their IPs take the majority of the spotlight in the game, so . . .”

Seeing that the situation was under control for the time being, Honda stepped back, and started to head back down toward the eighth car. With any luck, Miki had managed to calm down the other officers that no doubt wanted Jounouchi in cuffs and hauled down to the station, and with even more luck, they would have managed to break into the eighth car to begin rescuing the passengers trapped inside. There was still more to deal with, and Honda didn’t want to think about how long it would take to rescue everyone (or how many people they couldn’t rescue, how many people in the first and second cars had died as soon as the train collided with the business building), but for now, both Yuugi and Jounouchi were safe. Yuugi’s injury wasn’t life-threatening, Jounouchi had calmed down at least somewhat, and they were both safe.

In the grand scheme of things, Honda supposed that was the best he could ask for.

\- - -

It was nearly 10:30 by the time Yuugi and Katsuya were finally on their way home.

Katsuya hadn’t been wrong when he had said that it would take hours for Yuugi to be treated. It taken at least an hour, or maybe a little more, for the EMTs and officers to make their way to the fifth car, and due to the sheer number of injuries (and, though Yuugi hated to think about it, the number of casualties) caused by the train crash, even after they relocated Yuugi to a nearby hospital, it had taken several more hours for him to be treated. Katsuya wasn’t allowed to stay with him during that time; even though it was emergency care, and despite how Yuugi insisted that he _wanted_ Katsuya to stay, legally Katsuya was not his family, and therefore they made him leave. Katsuya had said that it was fine—said that he would just take Yuugi’s luggage home so that they wouldn’t have to carry it back later—but Yuugi could tell that he was still upset at being kicked out. Yuugi understood, because he felt much the same.

Katsuya had returned to the hospital after taking Yuugi’s luggage home, and when Yuugi was finally released (his leg all stitched and bandaged up, and aching like anything whenever he put pressure on it), Katsuya met him in the waiting room. By that time it was already nearly ten, and far too late for either of them to think about making dinner, and so they stopped by Burger World to pick up something quick on their way home, Katsuya carrying Yuugi piggyback all the while.

“I really can walk, you know,” Yuugi told him. Yuugi held their Burger World bag in one hand and a chocolate banana milkshake in the other, both of his arms draped over Katsuya’s shoulders. “You don’t have to carry me the whole way.”

“Mmhm. I know,” Katsuya said, but he made no sign of slowing or letting Yuugi down.

Yuugi pressed his lips together, and after a second said, “You just want easy access to the milkshake.”

Katsuya didn’t answer for a moment, but a second later he leaned over to take a drink from the milkshake straw. Yuugi couldn’t help but sputter a laugh as Katsuya said, “Guilty as charged.”

“I knew it,” Yuugi said, and Katsuya looked over his shoulder to shoot Yuugi a smile.

They were nearly back to their condo as it was, and as Yuugi laid his chin on Katsuya’s shoulder, he supposed it was okay that Katsuya had carried him back (and had carried him to Burger World as well, apparently oblivious to the way people stared at them given how old they were). Despite spending so much time waiting around, Yuugi did feel pretty tired, and being carried like this . . . it was nice. The faint aroma of coffee clung to Katsuya’s old, faded denim jacket, but his shirt was freshly laundered and smelled strongly of their detergent, and both his hair and skin carried the clean, crisp, comforting scent of the “ocean-scented” shampoo and body wash he had used for as long as they had known each other. Katsuya smelled like—like _himself_ , like _home_ , and as much as Yuugi didn’t want to admit it, there was a time in the midst of the train crash where he legitimately feared he would never get to see Katsuya again, much less hold him as he was now. So he tightened his embrace and placed a soft kiss in the crook of Katsuya’s neck, thankful more than anything else that he actually could.

When they finally made it to their front door, Yuugi wrapped his legs around Katsuya’s waist so that Katsuya could wrest his keys from his pocket to let them in. Much as everything about Katsuya was a comfort to Yuugi after all that had happened, the sight of their home was as well. Katsuya flicked the lights on before he shut the door behind them, and after he kicked off his shoes (and let Yuugi slip his off as well), he paused, and then laughed.

“What is it?” Yuugi asked.

“Nothing,” Katsuya said, but he seemed to realize that Yuugi was still waiting for an answer, so he said, “It’s just that—well, I knew we’d be coming home together today, but I didn’t think I’d be carrying you over the threshold like this.”

“Better than the way we tried it when we first moved in here,” Yuugi said, grinning.

Katsuya huffed another laugh as he carried Yuugi into the living room. “Yeah, no kidding. I can’t believe we got stuck for a second.”

“I can. The doorway isn’t that wide—”

“If you knew that, why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought we could make it! I didn’t realize it until after.”

“I honestly thought Honda was gonna disown us both and walk out.”

“I’m just glad Otogi-kun wasn’t there, or else he might have recorded it and put it online.”

Katsuya turned so that Yuugi could drop off his back and onto the sofa, and after he took both the Burger World bag and milkshake from Yuugi to set them on the table, he flopped down on the sofa himself. It only took him a second to take Yuugi’s hand in his again, and without really thinking about it Yuugi twined their fingers together.

“Welcome home,” Katsuya said softly.

Yuugi gave Katsuya’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Glad to be home,” he said.

The seconds ticked by in silence, and after a couple had passed Katsuya released Yuugi’s hand to wrap his arms around him instead. Yuugi scooted closer, laying his head back against Katsuya’s chest, relishing the sound of Katsuya’s steady heartbeat. Katsuya rested his chin on top of Yuugi’s head, and after a moment he said:

“I’m gonna have to apologize to Honda for freaking out at him tomorrow.”

“I’m sure he understands,” Yuugi said. “He was probably just worried and stressed himself given everything that was going on, and maybe a little frustrated at you for not listening to him.”

“He should be used to that by now. We’ve only known each other for fourteen years,” Katsuya said, and Yuugi snorted a laugh. “Still. I’ll call him tomorrow and say sorry.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“I also kinda announced to the entire city that I was gonna go down to the crash site to find you,” Katsuya said. “On-air, I mean—it’s how I signed off my show today.”

“You’ve said weirder on-air,” Yuugi said.

“It wasn’t weird, it was important,” Katsuya said. “Still, that’ll be a fun place to pick up from tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” Yuugi said.

They were quiet for another few moments more, their dinner growing cold (or, in the case of their milkshake, melting) on the coffee table. But neither of them moved to grab it, and after a moment, Katsuya kissed the top of Yuugi’s head, thereafter burying his face in Yuugi’s hair. Yuugi smiled, and closed his eyes as he leaned back into Katsuya’s embrace. _  
_


End file.
